Prison

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To be fixed down, and create faces out of the inanimate; whilst not beautiful, the features are familiar. It’s best to put pumpkins to good use.

 

In the pumpkin patch,

I see your face –

Hard

Bloated

Round angled

Fiery for harvest and carved

For home use –

Isosceles eyes

Square nose

Jagged mouth agape,

Crown removed with precision

And knarly candle in place

Jack O’ Lantern prison

To light my way.

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Balance

It is always disconcerting to wake up in the dark, to feel off balance and disoriented. A case of the living looking up at stars which have long since died but still shine for years afterwards.

 

To wake in darkness

And gaze up at the cosmic dead;

Feel the heaviness

Of the tilt

Of the axis, North star

Heeling Orion –

Lion mouthed and scorpion trodden,

In silent fen,

Bordering coast lapping

Sapphire sheen

Above this forest,

Leafed cement and slate

Of our city

Steeped in grime

Waiting unbidden

For passing skies

Bitten clean

The sinking scythes of

Long gone green dwarves

Picking, picking

At disparate air

Searching for the shine

Victoria Sponge

It seems baked goods are off the menu for this duo…

 

With the guest in place,

I took a spoon,

Whipped up some shape

Folded in the flour,

Added eggs,

Licked the bowl

And poured the mix

Into a tin

It went in the oven,

220 degrees for an hour

Set by the timer;

But the damn thing would

Not bloody rise

No matter how long it stayed

In the warm

I gave up, went through

To the table

And presented

The drab thing on its plate,

All pale and soft,

Quite deformed,

Not how it should look,

Not worth entering into a show

She was worried;

She got up,

And left;

Turns out

Her tarts in the car

Couldn’t stand being left in the cold

Pineapple

A taste of someone else’s home.

 

 

The fruit of sunrise,

Spiked skin bristling

As I turn it in my palm,

Lay it down on the board;

The detail is in the execution,

A tropical demise

I sawed, saw white sand

Cubed chunks

And threw out the core;

Added rum, coconut milk

Stirred,

Brought out the tall glasses

And felt the ice melt

I could be miles away,

Could pretend I was somewhere else

Instead, the drinks stood sullenly

On their faded tray,

And refused to blast their warm yellow;

And mourned for a sun,

Which once beamed hotly for them;

I took a sip,

Firmly placed,

Tasted a longing

Far from home

At Sea

Whilst at sea, we are often in uncharted waters, relying on technology to give us our bearings. In the days of old, sailors relied on stars to orient them. But what happens when you are landlocked, and the sky is clouded over?

 

The sky was pearly grey,

I stood on the deck

Of fire escape

And found myself at sea,

As the crowd behind

On the busy street

Roared below,

Waves of people

Crashing their words

I heard

The albatross call,

And I drank in air,

As they drank in rum,

My thirst for your company

Not assuaged

The star pointed

Five degrees,

As sharp as the day

You had

Flown to another land,

Lain down

And gone to sleep